OK all you chosen people. It's time for you to decide what is and is not going to be your legacy. Because if you don't choose what you let inside that Sinai mind of yours, you'll wind up dealing with the same nonsense that kept your folks east of the Jordan, just outside the Promised Land.
I was on my way home the other night, one-half of a couple that just had a very pleasant evening. It was mitzvah time so a cab was in good order. On my way down the hill I heard the usual "Allo Rasta" I often got back when I had dreadlocks. Obligingly I turned and saw three Ethiopian youths. One of them had starter locks so we talked shop. Our conversation took some funny turns since we were all communicating in such varied accents (I would trade mine for an Amharic twang any day). They explained that they were in the holy city for the night from their town up north. Soon I lost my vigor, so we said our 'shaloms' and moved on.
My companion and I had a bit to talk about so we decided to walk around the downtown area before turning in. Just as our chat entered strange territory, I noticed my Ethiopian pals a few meters away. They were talking to a group of shiny, happy American lads and lassies. I turned my attention to them and watched as the conversation rose into something of a dispute. No one had put up their hands but voices were certainly raised. I couldn't tell exactly what was at issue but they spoke primarily in Hebrew sprinkled with standard English. The argument was going nowhere; no one seemed to be getting the others point. I turned back to my friend when hark! What did I hear? I couldn't believe my ears but turned around and saw it was true. As the quarrel was at a communication impasse my fellow Americans had resorted to the international language of darker peoples; yes, they began speaking Jive to these Ethiopian teens. It was a gentle blend of Gary Coleman and Wu-Tang dialect with inflections especially on words like "man," "listen" and of course "brother."
Amazed, I wondered where these kids thought they were, and whom they thought they were addressing. Since these young Ethiopians, whose most recent experience with slavery was in Egypt, not America, spoke Amharic at home not whatever these young Americans assumed they spoke, the argument went nowhere. Both parties split and went their separate ways. The Americans probably wondered why these black kids had not understood them, even in their best learned Jive, and the Ethiopians were still puzzled as to why the Americans had started speaking differently all of a sudden.
I said goodnight to my friend in mid-tirade and boarded my carriage to mull over my evening. Exactly what had just happened? I saw and heard an uninterrupted lineage of nonsense, passed down from previous generations and now delivered to another culture, another land. Had anyone taught these kids that it is not cool to impose your delusions on someone? Shouldn't Jews be more keenly aware of that, more than any other group, since Jewish communities stretched from Vilna to Addis Ababa and every point in between? Maybe not. I guess they cut that class and did Jive home-study .
These kids are just one example of our people not understanding Jewish diversity and instead eating whatever ignorance is spoon fed to them in America. Jew make the call. Are you going to accept American pie stupidity, or transcend it with a little extra effort towards knowledge? There's a lot out there in the world. Jews are in constant dialogue with what's going on around them. Part of that interaction is the responsibility to discern what is odious and brutish from what is enlightened and (you guessed it) Jewish.
Jeremiah Johnson is a Dorot Fellow studying at the Pardes Institute in Jerusalem.